Читать книгу The Rancher Inherits A Family - Cheryl St. John - Страница 15
ОглавлениеMarigold rolled that announcement around in her mind for a moment. She was going to be staying with the Halloways? She’d had no idea where she’d be staying, except that her room would be at a student’s home and likely change occasionally. But this arrangement had her thoughts spinning. Seth, too, looked every bit as surprised by his mother’s revelation as she felt.
She had her reservations about going home with this family—especially with the children. She’d been drawn to them, felt compassion for them, offered them care and concern...as long as she knew this was a temporary occurrence. After today she’d believed she wouldn’t meet them again until they showed up in her classroom. But now she would be living with them?
“When did you make this arrangement?” Seth asked, echoing her mental question. Marlys handed him a vial holding a clear liquid and a glass of water. He drank both and gave her a nod.
“After young James explained the situation and all the upheaval in town. I rode in early this morning and spoke with Will and Daniel,” his mother explained.
The lady doctor turned to Marigold. “Will Canfield and Daniel Gardner are two of the town founders and formed the city council,” she explained. “They help arrange the bride trains to aid the establishment of Cowboy Creek.”
“You’ll be able to see Daniel and Leah Gardner’s house from the schoolhouse,” Seth’s mother said. “He owns the stockyards. Leah arrived on a bride train, and she’s a midwife and—” Evelyn Halloway shook her head. “Sorry, I got ahead of myself. You’ll have plenty of time to know everyone in town.” She gave Marigold a smile. “The important thing is, the city council took a quick vote this morning and agreed it was logical for you to stay with us. James located the rest of your belongings and has them loaded. The boys didn’t bring much, I hear?”
Marigold experienced the sensation of being swept along in a swift-moving current. “No, only two small bags of clothing, and Mr. Johnson already took one, along with mine.”
Marlys gestured to the window. “Sam took the other last night. He should be bringing the children any minute.”
“How much do I owe, Dr. Mason?” Seth asked.
“I’ve been notified that all medical care, food and lodging for anyone involved in the train accident is being picked up by the railroad,” she replied. “I imagine Will Canfield had some pull arranging that.” She turned to Marigold. “Will has aspirations for the Kansas governorship, and has influential friends.”
Marigold had much to learn and a lot of people to meet.
“Thank you for tending to me,” Seth told Marlys.
“It was my pleasure. Do let me know if I can be of any assistance with those boys. There is going to be an adjustment period for them.”
“I must admit I was taken aback by the news,” Evelyn said. “But now that they’re here, I can’t wait to meet them. Do they look like Tessa?”
“Like both she and Jessie, I’d say,” Seth answered.
As though on cue, the bell over the door rang and Sam Mason ushered in all the boys. Little John removed his thumb from his mouth and ran straight for Marigold.
Seth and his mother looked as surprised as she felt. She kneeled and wrapped an arm around the three-year-old’s sturdy little body. “Did you sleep well last night?”
Little John nodded. “Da book’s in our bag.”
Is it wise to be living with these children? The warning echoed in her thoughts, making her stomach feel a little shaky. She smiled at the little boy. “Thank you for taking care of it for me.”
“We slept in a big bed in Mr. Mason’s upstairs,” Tate told her. “A comfortable one.”
“Peony and I slept in a bed in Dr. Mason’s back room,” she told him with a smile. “A very comfortable bed, as well.” Pausing over her last words, she released Little John and stood. “Mrs. Halloway, I’ve brought my cat with me. I understand that’s too much of an imposition, and I’m happy to go wherever the council had originally planned.”
The lovely woman blinked and gave her a smile. “We have cats and dogs at the ranch. I don’t see one more as a problem. Cats keep the mice population down.”
“Well, Peony is a house cat. I don’t know what she’d do if she got outside unattended. And I doubt she’d know what to do if she encountered a mouse.”
“I see. Well, I’m sure we can accommodate your Peony. I’m going to be thankful for your help.” She patted Marigold’s hand. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had children around, and what with Seth laid up...well, I’ll appreciate another hand.”
As reluctant as she was to get any more involved, Marigold couldn’t possibly decline to help. It was because of Peony that Seth had gone back into that debris, rather than immediately getting to safety. It was for her sake he’d been in that position in the first place. But all of this was more of the same—life was still happening to her, even though she was attempting to forge her own path. With a sick feeling in her chest, she resigned herself to going along with this family.
“It’s the least I can do,” she said and meant it. As soon as Seth was able to tend for himself, do chores and help with the boys, she’d make her excuses and find another place. Her meager salary wouldn’t afford her the luxury of Aunt Mae’s, and she didn’t want to live off her savings, but food and lodging was in her contract.
“I’ve given Mr. Halloway herbs for pain,” Dr. Mason explained to his mother. She picked up a small canvas bag from a nearby counter and extended it. “Mix a half teaspoon of this powder with water and give it to him with an additional glass of water every six hours.” She cocked an eyebrow at Seth. “If he’ll accept it.”
“I’ll take the herbs if I need them,” he said.
“Thank you for all of your help and the good night’s rest,” Marigold told Marlys. She took her crumpled bonnet from her bag, nodded to the boys and led the gathering outside.
James had their belongings nestled in the back of a buckboard with wood sides, along with what looked like a few purchases Mrs. Halloway must have made. He’d formed a couple of makeshift stairs with crates and stood to the side while Seth made the climb into the rear. After only a few muffled groans he seated himself on another crate, which had a nest of blankets behind. James then ushered Seth’s mother up to the wagon seat, while Marigold and the boys scrambled up.
“That’s not ours,” Tate said, pointing to their stack of belongings. “That train. It isn’t ours.”
The item he referred to appeared to be a small wooden train engine with a couple of cars attached.
“It belongs to the other children on the train,” Harper agreed.
Marigold remembered seeing the toy during the trip to Kansas. “There were no other children on the train, Harper.”
He nodded and gave her a wide-eyed look of sincerity. “There was. And that’s theirs.”
She glanced at James. “Are you aware of any other children arriving, Mr. Johnson?”
“No, miss. Only these here boys.”
Marigold raised an eyebrow at Tate and Harper, but then she shrugged. If they’d made up imaginary friends to pass the time, she wasn’t going to create a disturbance over their play. “Well, we’ll take it along until someone else comes for it.”
James loaded the makeshift steps and, with an agile leap, seated himself and clucked to the horses. “I’ll take you in a roundabout way out of town, Miss Brewster, so you can see a little more of Cowboy Creek.”
“That’s thoughtful, James,” Evelyn told him.
His route first took them east to Lincoln Boulevard, where he turned the team left and headed north past the schoolhouse and an elegant two-story home.
“That’s the Gardner place,” Evelyn said. She narrated the tour as they went as far north as Sixth Street, then turned south onto Eden, the main thoroughfare. She pointed out everything from the grand opera house to the bakery, where the enticing scents of cinnamon and yeast drew sighs from the boys.
Only once they passed Aunt’s Mae’s boardinghouse did Marigold get her bearings. Then, after a few more blocks of seemingly thriving businesses, they headed south, out of town.
“It’s so flat here,” Tate said. “Where are the trees?”
Marigold had thought much the same for days while the train crossed the prairie with little more than short grasses in sight.
Seth reclined against the blankets, his forearm crossed protectively over his side. “You’re right. What you see for miles and miles is little bluestem and buffalo grass. They withstand drought.”
“What’s drought?” Harper asked.
“No rain,” Seth explained.
Marigold studied the terrain from beneath the brim of her bonnet.
“A couple of horticultural societies started up recently, teaching Kansans about forestry,” Seth told them. “It’s possible to grow trees, but it’s not easy. The dogged wind makes the soil all the drier.”
Tate held onto his hat as a strong gust threatened to take it.
“You’ll see a few trees when we get to the ranch.”
His effort to talk to the youngster touched Marigold. She glanced at him, and when his gaze met hers, she quickly looked away. She’d thrust herself into the midst of strangers in a peculiar land, and now she had to make the best of it.
* * *
She hadn’t known what she’d expected, but White Rock Ranch consisted of acres of spring grasses, freshly plowed fields and pastures with grazing horses. Barns, corrals and a dormered two-story house with covered porches along two sides came into view. A row of eight-foot elms stood to the west of the house.
“That’s a big house,” she said to no one in particular.
“It came with the ranch,” Seth told her. “There’s a soddy out behind where the previous owners lived until they built this one. My brother told us about the land as soon as the rancher came to him for help selling.”
“Did you plant those trees?” Tate asked.
Seth sat forward and inhaled sharply. “I did.”
James lowered the tailgate and jumped into the back of the wagon to assist Seth. He and Mrs. Halloway helped him down to the ground.
“Until we get more beds, I’ve given the boys your room with the bigger bed,” his mother told Seth. “Miss Brewster will have the far bedroom, and you’ll be sleeping in the room off the kitchen for now.”
“Sounds busy.”
She raised an eyebrow and smiled. “It’s convenient.”
“I’d prefer a bed out here.” He made his way up the porch stairs to a rocker and sat.
“I’ll arrange it.” Evelyn reached the door and gave Marigold a resigned smile. “He’s made up his mind. I’d be wasting my breath to argue.”
“I’ll help you with the beds and the cooking.”
“There’s plenty of room,” she assured Marigold, “but the rooms aren’t all furnished yet.”
James carried in Marigold’s and the boys’ bags and left them as directed. Marigold carried Peony’s carrier into the room she’d been assigned. She sat on the narrow bed, lifted the cat out onto her lap and squeezed her eyes shut. Only a year ago she was living in the comfortable home her parents had left to her and her sister, teaching in a well-appointed school, helping care for the niece she adored. Memories of her sister, Daisy, and her niece, Violet, assailed her. They’d been on their own because Daisy’s husband had contracted gold fever and disappeared for months at a time, but they’d had each other. With both of them working, they’d been able to support themselves and care for Violet. Life would never be like that again. She might as well resign herself to the unfortunate fact.
She could have stayed in her family’s home. She would have managed. But every room, every corner, every furnishing had held bittersweet memories. The reminder of her loss was too great to bear. She’d cared for her parents until their deaths, and because Daisy had never had a home of her own, Marigold had been thankful for her company and happy to help care for Violet. After Daisy’s death, she and her niece had clung to each other—until Violet’s father had come for her.
Marigold had no legal right to her sister’s child. Violet had cried, and Marigold had encouraged her to be brave when all she’d wanted to do was cry herself. Later, she’d done plenty of that in the hollow house in which she’d been left alone.
It had been time to leave. Start over. Make her own decisions. The teaching position in Cowboy Creek had sounded like a grand adventure.
She glanced around. The room was clean, the quilt-covered bed comfortable enough, the pine chest of drawers and washstand adequate. She would meet new students and be up to the challenge of teaching them. Teaching brought her joy.
She had much to look forward to.
* * *
“Ain’t neither caterpillars.”
“Are so.”
“No, they ain’t. Caterpillars ain’t brown.”
“Some are. Go on, touch ’em.”
Seth listened to the loud whispers, wondering what the boys were talking about. He’d been dozing on the narrow daybed his mother had instructed James to set up on the porch. She and Miss Brewster had made it up with crisp fresh-smelling sheets and a thick quilt, and he’d succumbed to Dr. Mason’s herbal concoction and the rigor of the ride home.
His lip tickled, and he swatted at it. The tickle under his nose came again, and this time when he swatted, he came away with a skinny arm. He opened his eyes to find he’d captured Harper Radner. The boy’s wide dark eyes stared back, but his fascinated gaze was fixed on Seth’s upper lip—specifically his mustache.
“What are you boys up to?”
“Harper said you got caterpillars on your lip. I said nuh-uh.”
Seth grinned. “Well, you’re right smart, Harper. What fella would want caterpillars on his lip? What if they fell into his supper?”
The five-year-old scrunched his face into a mask of distaste. “Ewwww!”
From the other side of the porch Tate guffawed.
Seth released the boy’s arm. Harper backed up, spotted an empty bucket, which he turned over for a stool, and sat a few feet away from Seth’s bed. “I’m gonna sit here and watch for a while.”
“I have a chore for the both of you. There’s a shed out behind the house. Go back there, leave the door open for light and find me a couple of lanterns. I’ll want them when it gets dark.”
“To see your way to the privy?” Harper asked.
Seth nodded. “And to read. Where’s Little John?”
“Inside with Miss Brewster.” The two turned and darted around the corner of the house.
The screen door opened ten feet away, and Miss Brewster exited the house carrying a tray. Little John walked so closely beside her, Seth hoped he didn’t trip her.
“We heard you talking to the boys. Your mother sent your lunch.” She set the tray on an upended crate and moved it closer to him. “Do you want to sit up a little more?”
“I reckon one more cushion.”
She leaned across him to tuck the padding behind him, and her citrusy scent enveloped him. The unique zesty scent suited her—it wasn’t heavy or floral, but bright, like her hair and eyes. She wore a pale blue shirtwaist with lace trim down the front and an apron over a blue-and-white checkered skirt. The fabric rustled as she moved. Standing, she handed him a plate of food and smoothed her hand over her hip in an unconscious nervous gesture.
Looking at the bruise on her delicate jaw made him wince each time he saw it. Her face was flushed and her eyelids seemed pink. The day wasn’t uncomfortably warm, which made him wonder if she’d been crying. The thought disturbed him more than he’d have liked. “Have a seat.”
She glanced behind her and lowered herself onto a cushioned twig chair.
Little John immediately leaned against her knees, and she lifted him onto her lap. He stuck a thumb into his mouth and rested back against her. His untrusting gaze bore into Seth’s.
She smoothed the little boy’s hair from his forehead. The gesture made something in Seth’s chest shift uncomfortably, and he questioned his reaction. No female had ever affected him the way this one did. In her presence, he felt appreciative, protective, uncertain, wary...and enchanted. All at once. The tumble of emotions confused and worried him. He didn’t have time to think about perplexing feelings.
He said a silent blessing and ate the meat and potatoes his mother had prepared, his gaze moving across the landscape. Once spring had arrived, he’d inspected all the buildings and made repairs to stalls and corrals. He and old Dewey had ridden fence for weeks, mending and replacing. Dewey was most likely finishing that chore today. Seth’s mother hadn’t mentioned him, but she’d left for town early and probably set out a breakfast for their hand. Right now Seth should be checking wells and pumps, inspecting the troughs to make certain they’d hold rainwater. Once this rib quit hurting he’d be able to ride.
He glanced at Marigold, noting Little John had fallen asleep on her lap. “You can lay him at the foot of the cot here. I’ll sit up while he naps.”
She shifted the boy’s weight so he was in a manageable position, then rose to place him on the bed. The child curled up and stuck his thumb into his mouth. Seth watched the boy slumber, his long lashes against his pinkened cheek. Glancing up, he noticed that Marigold hadn’t moved away, but was studying Little John as well, her expression undecipherable.
“You’re good with the boys,” he said.
She came out of her reverie to glance at Seth. “Children fascinate me. I suppose that’s why I became a teacher. They’re impressionable and for the most part unspoiled. They don’t resist change or new information, and unless they have cause not to be, they’re accepting.”
She moved back to the chair and smoothed her skirts.
“He’s pretty wary of me.” Seth set aside his plate. “I confess I don’t much know what to do for youngins. I realize Tessa was desperate for someone to look out for them, but I don’t know that I was the best choice.”
“Apparently she trusted you.”
He took a deep breath that shot a stabbing pain to his side. “I reckon.” He shifted, trying to get more comfortable. “Aside from feeding them and giving them a place to sleep, what do I do with them?”
“They’re curious. They’re energetic. Give them room to play and discover. They need guidelines and routines, enforced with kindness. They need a sense of well-being and someone to listen to them.”
Still feeling inadequate, he thought over her words.
“Not all that different from adults in that respect,” she added and glanced away from his gaze.
Was she missing a sense of well-being? She’d come all this way on a train by herself. He’d heard talk about the hiring of a new teacher, but until now he hadn’t put any thought into what kind of person would accept the position. All of the other women who arrived in Cowboy Creek were either already married to businessmen or ranchers, or had come seeking husbands. Marigold Brewster had apparently come to teach, but it was a long way to travel for a position.
“What brought you to Kansas?” he asked.
She glanced at Little John and then aside. “I lived in Ohio with my sister. We worked and took care of each other. And then she died. It was lonely living in my parents’ home without them—without Daisy, I mean. I saw the advertisement for a teacher in a growing boomtown community, so I sent a telegram and once I heard back, I sold the house. I wanted to start over.”
“Did you have friends there? Other family?”
She shook her head. “We had friends once. The war changed everything.”
He nodded. “Indeed.”
A moment passed and the cry of a hawk echoed in the distance.
“Where were you during the war?” she asked.
“We ranched in Missouri, so I guess that tells you something. We were battling over statehood from the start. Towns and families split over joining the Confederacy. My father had built up stock and my brothers and I helped out. The ranch was thriving, but when the war broke out, most of the ranchers had to set their cattle loose while they went to fight. We thought it would only be for a few months and we’d come back and round ’em up, sort ’em out and go on. We lost at Wilson’s Creek early on, won at Pea Ridge, but the battles went on and on, and there was no law to be had.”
“I followed the newspaper reports,” she said. “What about your parents?”
He collected himself before speaking. “My father was killed in sixty. Before the war. Then between Quantrill, the James brothers, Bill Anderson and the like, it was too dangerous to leave my mother alone, so we sent her to her brother’s family in Philadelphia, and she waited out the war with my aunts. I ended up fighting in Arkansas, was with General Steele during the Red River Campaign.”
“You said ‘we’?”
“I have two younger brothers.” He spotted a trail of dust in the distance. “Looks like you’ll be meeting one real soon.”
* * *
Marigold turned in the direction Seth studied. Dust rose in the air as a rider approached. He reached the dooryard and slid from his sleek black horse. Dressed in a black waistcoat, black trousers and shiny boots, he approached the porch and removed his hat. He was as tall as Seth, but leaner. A neatly trimmed goatee made his face appear all the more angular.
The stranger turned his attention on Seth. “I just returned from Lawrence this morning and heard you got banged up yesterday.”
“I didn’t know you were gone.”
“Last-minute trip.” The man turned to Marigold. “You must be Miss Brewster, our new schoolteacher. Russell Halloway, miss.”
“A pleasure,” she said.
His gaze slid to the sleeping boy. “And this is one of Tessa’s children?”
“That’s Little John,” Seth answered. “Did you look over the letter?”
“I did. She had it witnessed, and I sent a telegram to the witness who confirmed being present and that Tessa was of sound mind when she wrote it. If someone contested your custody of the children, the letter would be enough to sway a judge that you should have them. It’s not a legal document, however, so no court could force you to take the boys if you were set against it.”
“What other options would there be?” Marigold asked with concern.
“The records of disposition of desperate orphans have increased by thousands in the past five years,” Russ explained. “There are orphan asylums across the country that take children from infancy to age thirteen.”
“Desperate orphans,” she repeated, glancing from his brother to Seth. A slice of panic rose in her chest. “An asylum sounds dreadful.”
“I’m not refusing to take them,” Seth assured them both. “Tessa wanted them in my care, so that’s where they’ll stay. I just want to make sure everything is legal. There can’t be any question about the authenticity of Tessa’s will.”
She took a deep breath and thanked the Lord for Seth’s magnanimous compassion.
The brothers looked at each other, and Marigold sensed the tension barely below the surface.
“I wouldn’t want ’em to settle in and then find there’s a problem,” Seth insisted.
“You can petition a judge and sign papers to adopt them if it’s what you want,” Russ told him. “Just remember if they carry your name that upon your death they will legally inherit your land and holdings—shared with any other children you might have, so you’ll need to have a will in order.”
The thought of leaving these children a share of his land didn’t seem to bother Seth, because he replied immediately. “Get those papers ready to sign then.”
Russell rested his hat on a small table. “It will take me a few days to put the papers in order, so you’ll have time to think about it.”
“I’ve thought about it.”
“Russ!” Evelyn pushed open the screen door and hurried to give her son an energetic hug. “I was expecting to see you yesterday.”
“Just returned this morning,” he explained.
“Miss Brewster, you’ve met my second-born son? He’s a lawyer and has his very own practice in town—the one you saw on Eden Street. Daniel Gardner and Will Canfield contacted him and suggested he come to Kansas. Russ is the reason we’re here, too. He told Seth about this ranch when it came available.”
Russ appeared uncomfortable with her lengthy introduction. “We’ve met, Mother.”
Undeterred, Evelyn continued. “Russ is expecting a lovely young woman to arrive by train very soon. We’re all looking forward to her arrival.” She turned to her middle son. “Would you like some dinner? It’s still hot.”
“I am hungry,” he said.
“I’ll get it.” Marigold stood quickly. “You sit and visit with your sons, Mrs. Halloway.”
Marigold entered the house and busied herself making another tray, giving the Halloways time to talk. When she carried out the tray minutes later, Evelyn had moved the table near Russ’s chair.
“Thank you, Miss Brewster.” Russ picked up his napkin and settled it on his lap.
Evelyn gave her son an affectionate look. “After my husband died, we got into hard times back in Missouri. Russ was at university out East. He had to take a job and earn scholarships to finish his law degree. It took him a few years, but even with him going off to fight, he did it.”
Marigold found a narrow space on the opposite side of the sleeping Little John and squeezed herself in. “That’s quite an accomplishment.”
“After the war, he earned himself a reputation fighting for veterans’ rights,” she went on, with pride in her voice. “That’s how he came in contact with Daniel and Will.”
Russ’s harsh features showed his displeasure. Marigold imagined he was a force to be reckoned with in a judge’s chambers. “I’m sure Miss Brewster doesn’t want to hear about me.”
“I’m captivated,” Marigold said with a smile.
“I have another son, too,” Evelyn added, lifting her chin. “Adam is my youngest. After the army, he joined the Pinkerton National Detective Agency.”
“And that’s the last we’ve heard of him,” Seth commented.
“He’s written a few letters,” Evelyn said quickly. “I’m sure he’s very busy bringing criminals to justice.”
Marigold had noted the vague information in Seth and his mother’s stories about his father’s death. Seth had mentioned he was killed. Marigold barely knew them. She didn’t want to ask personal questions that would surely bring up a painful subject. After all, she had her own hurts she didn’t want to talk about.
As they talked, an older man approached on foot from the direction of the barns. He was tall and slender, wearing bibbed overalls and a shirt with the sleeves rolled back. As he approached the house, he removed his hat and held it against his chest.
“Hello, Mr. Dewey,” Evelyn called out. “Our morning was so busy, I didn’t see you. Are you ready for some dinner?”
“Oh, no, ma’am. I fixed myself something. Didn’t wanna be no bother. I just wanted to see how Seth was doin’.”
“Well, come join us and meet Miss Brewster, the new schoolteacher we’ve been hearing about.”
“How do, miss,” the fellow said and stopped at the foot of the stairs.
“Come up here and sit with us. I’ll get you a cup of coffee,” Evelyn said. “Marigold, this is Mr. Dewey. He’s Seth’s friend and works here.” Evelyn hurried into the house.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dewey.”
“Just plain Dewey, miss.”
“Dewey and I drove cattle from Texas to Colorado and have more than a few scars to show for it,” Seth said.
Dewey brought a chair from the far end of the porch and settled onto it. He was a lanky fellow, his body all sharp angles. He had a full head of silver-gray hair, but his big mustache was still shot with patches of black. “And a whole passel o’ stories.”
Tate and Harper came around the side of the house and set dusty lanterns inside the porch rail.
“How many did you find?” Seth asked.
“Four, sir,” Tate replied.
“Fine work. Come close.”
The boys glanced at the two strangers and moved beside Seth.
Seth introduced them to his brother and the ranch hand, and Evelyn returned with a tray of full coffee cups for the men.
“This is more people than we’ve had on this porch since we got here last fall,” she said with a smile.
“Reckon you should get busted up more often,” Dewey said to Seth, and Seth chuckled while holding his side.
It was the first time Marigold had seen a smile on his face, and she appreciated the relaxed expression. He and Dewey had obviously shared a long friendship.
“You rode the train all the way from Missouri?” Russ asked the boys.
Harper looked at Tate, and Tate responded. “Yes, sir. Part way we met Miss Brewster, an’ she helped look after us.”
“She has a cat,” Harper added.
“Where do you live?” Tate asked.
“I have a place in town,” Russ replied.
“A new house,” Evelyn said. “I helped him with rugs and furniture and the like. It will be a fine home for a family.”
Russ gave his mother a tolerant grin. “Someday.”
“Not long now.” She glanced at Marigold. “The young woman Russ has been corresponding with is coming to Cowboy Creek in only a few weeks.”
“Mother,” Russ said by way of shushing her.
“Where do you stay, Dewey?” Marigold asked, to change the subject.
“I have a place in the rear of the small barn.” He gestured over his shoulder with a thumb.
Evelyn tilted her head. “I’ve tried to get him into the house, but he won’t have it—not even over the winter.”
“Got ever’thing I need right out there, and I don’t bother nobody when I get up to look at the stars of a night,” he replied. “Ain’t slept in a house my whole life, an’ I don’t have a mind to now.”
It was clear they’d had the discussion more than once, and Evelyn wasn’t winning.
Little John woke up, and his disoriented gaze went from person to person, until he found his brothers. He sat up and scooted close to Marigold. She patted his leg. “This is Little John,” she told the newcomers.
The boy stuck his thumb into his mouth.
“Harper, will you please take him around back?”
“Yes’m.”
Tate followed his younger brothers.
“Three children are a big responsibility,” Russ commented.
“I know all about responsibility.” Seth’s voice held a depth of meaning.
Russ took a sip of his coffee.
“Miss Brewster is here to help us.” Evelyn gave Marigold a warm smile.
“I’ll see to those dishes now,” she said. She got up and made her way inside.
There was more to this family than anyone had shared, but it was none of her business. None of this was her business, when it came right down to it, but here she was, embroiled in the care and feeding of three children and a wounded rancher.
